


The Lost Soap Opera

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone else is getting a piece of everyone else aboard the Lost Light- except Skids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Soap Opera

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt from tekka-chama on tumblr, _"The Lost Light is actually Cybertron's most popular soap opera"_ and it sorta turned into a short drabble. OwO

Skids’ arms gave out, sliding across the bar as his face hit the hard surface. There were several huffs of amusement nearby, but his audials honed into one register in particular. “Something you find funny, Swerve?"

"You," Swerve said merrily, thumping the larger mech on the head as he passed by. “Never fail to entertain."

"Neither do you."

Footsteps sounded again as Swerve drifted back over; Skids managed to twist his head just enough to see the minibot’s sideways face. “Are you _complimenting_ me? Because you’re _not_ getting any more free drinks, genius."

Skids fully slumped again, smiling secretly at Swerve’s triumphant laugh. “Yeah, I’m a bit rusty at that."

"I’ll say." The minibot began drying a row of glasses, choosing to stay close by instead of where he usually sat at the end. Skids perked again, though this time with a frown.

"Which doesn’t help me any," Skids muttered, flexing his hands as he stretched his arms out to droop over the edges of the counter. “Not on this Pit-forsaken ship. It’s like a damned soap opera, with everyone lusting after everyone else and _so much_ fragging it’s not even funny."

Swerve’s visor flashed merrily as he leaned in. “Oh, but it _is_ funny! It’s gotten so bad I can tell when Tailgate’s made another social faux pas by the way Cyclonus keeps exactly 3 metres from him. Or if Brainstorm dragged Percy into another storage closet by those clawed afts and Ambulon’s all-out _deathglares,_ or Rung can’t hear _anything_ ‘cause he turned down his audials from hearing Chromedome and Rewind-,"

"It’s not that I _mind_ all the fragging," Skids interrupted morosely. “It’s that I’m not _getting_ any."

"Oh. Yeah, I can sympathize," Swerve said wistfully.

“ _You?_ You’re joking," Skids huffed. “I figured everyone had stayed after closing time to bend you over the bar. No offense."

"None taken, since no one’s had the _consideration_ to!"

They stared, the bar’s rowdy sounds fading to white noise as twin smiles crept across their faces. Swerve yelped happily as Skids grabbed one thick arm and tugged him close.

 _"I think you should close early,"_ Skids whispered huskily.

"Slag yes!"


End file.
